


My First Week of College Ended in the Emergency Room

by Lothirielswan



Category: based off a true story - Fandom
Genre: College, First Day of College, First Day of School, Gen, kfc is the protagonist of this story, pls send help, the hell that has transpired, you have no idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25865734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothirielswan/pseuds/Lothirielswan
Summary: The emergency room before me was suddenly filled with black dots. I rose, wobbling on my feet as I stumbled to the doorway. "I'll be fine―"I sure as hell wasn't.This is the story of my first week in college. They say college is the Land of Opportunity, and that was where I was going. However, "opportunity" is a very broad term. It didn't do justice to describe what rabbit hole of weirdness I just fell down.(this story is based on real-life events of me, Lotheswan. There are parts that may disturb you. There also parts that'll make you laugh till you cry.)





	1. Little Dorm of Terrors

I would like to say this before we begin this little dorm of terrors tale: most of my life has been uneventful. Some people pursue writing because it’s their passion. For me, telling other people’s stories is much more interesting than telling mine. And that is how I would like to look upon this experience: the gods have gifted me with a thrilling, adrenaline-pact story to tell at cocktail parties later in my life. 

I was entering as a college freshmen, having graduated high school with an Associates Degree. My last two years of high school were spent at a community college, so I was used to the flexible hours and online setup. I did my own laundry, I put away dishes, and I tended to my twenty-pound cat. I was an independent person, and it wasn't the scholarly portion of college that had me chewing on my stomach acid. I bit my nails over my new home, three hours away, with a roommate that was randomly picked. 

D A Y O N E

Move-in day was the worst, but I was spared most of the trauma when my parents abandoned me after lunch. I had formed up the majority of my room on that same day. That was a gift about this college: I had my own room, small but still mine only, and I shared a small open space and facilities with my new roommate, Perennial. 

My room was filled with all the necessities I needed for daily life; a fridge, a microwave, a _Game of Thrones_ backpack (commemorating my binge during the summer), a random green lawn gnome my mom had gifted to me some St. Patrick's Day before, a poster of Loki from the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and three popsicle sticks with the faces of Chris Hemsworth/Evans/Pratt stuck to them. 

My descent to madness had just begun. 

It was my first night. I had taken a pill before bed and had a cup of tea to soothe my nerves. The unsettling feeling still lingers on my memories of that first day. I didn't cry. I wasn't too upset, despite that deeply unnerving feeling. I ignored the unease, sipped my tea, and went to bed.

 _Uh oh._

Something felt wrong. Was it the uneasiness? It had escalated exponentially. Could it still be counted as that dreaded feeling? Or was this foreshadowing to a new nightmare? 

_It almost feels like…_

I hadn't thrown up in years. It was not a natural occurrence for me. When I was little, sure, I was my mom’s most disliked volcano due to reflex. But it wasn't common for years, especially _now_.

In the dark, my mouth was flooded with saliva.

I sat up, thinking if this feeling were true, I should at least be safe and wait it out in the bathroom. But sitting up was the catalyst; and I was erupting.

_Crap! Not on the carpet! Not on the carpet! Don't tarnish the carpet with bodily fluids, is that so much to ask?_

I had a hand over my mouth, trying to spare the surface beneath me until I reached the dorm tile. I was facing my closed bedroom door―

And the long-dormant volcano erupted. Ironically, looking back, it was mostly orange.

“Rachel? Can I come in?” My roommate’s voice was on the other side of the door. 

I fumbled in the darkness awkwardly for a second. I felt a great pang not to open that door, guilty that I had woken up (and probably thoroughly grossed out) my roommate. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

I regretted that response, given it was such a simple, stupid one. I opened the door, spewing (not literally―crap, wrong choice of words) apologies as she handed me some disinfecting wipes. I mentioned the rarity of this phenomena as I worked to sanitize the room I had spent all day cleaning and furnishing. 

“I think it was nerves,” I mumbled. “It's been so long since that's happened. I can't believe I actually...I'm sorry.” 

To this day, I still wonder if it was solely from nerves alone. When I later told my mother, she suspected the source was the tea I took with that medicinal pill earlier. I thought I had spaced the two events out well enough. My mother thought otherwise.

“No, it's okay.” My roommate assured me. She didn't seem upset. Probably giving the volcano some space. I went to bed a second time, pressing a throat lozenge in my mouth to combat the putrid taste that lingered. My musings weren't positive.

Now I was That Girl. The girl that threw up on her first night of college, away from home. How embarrassing. It was a sickening thought now. 

Little did I know, that was the least of my worries.


	2. How's Miss Pukey Looking Now, Eh?

The next morning, the memories of the night before were like a dream. I couldn't believe what had actually happened. Still, to this day, it felt unreal. 

I was a free woman, but my roommate couldn't say the same. Her parents lingered on another day, which was frustrating to her, but relieving to me. The pair adopted me like a second child and took me to the bookstore so I could get my resources early. 

The events of last night weren't mentioned to Perennial’s parents. When asked how the first night went, I mysteriously answered, “explosive.” I was hoping that one day, I could laugh at the experience. But it turns out, I would be looking back at that first night with fond nostalgia for what transpired next. 

Perennial’s parents vacated later that day, and we were both free women. I was still fiddling around in my room, writing a _Game of Thrones_ quote on the tiny whiteboard sticking to my fridge.

“Dammit!”

I overheard it from my roommate’s room. She was red-faced with distress. I asked what was wrong, and received a very informal explanation.

...Simply put, as to not completely gross out my audience (if you aren't already), there was blood and pain in a place where there shouldn't be, at least...not by a monthly prediction. 

I asked if she tried the school clinic, if she wanted me to get the RA. Perennial questioned someone from our university on the phone, then gave me a glum, slightly sickened look. 

“They can't do anything. They said they only treat fevers and runny noses…”

I inhaled sharply. “That's helpful.” 

“Yeah, tell me about it…” Perennial explained how there was a Medical Express that they informed her of. I offered to drive. Like me, she was hours away from home. Her parents had already left. She was alone, facing this nightmare. No one should be alone facing hell like this. 

I would make note here that we left around dinner time―without dinner. I was already feeling the pangs of hunger, and filled a _plastic red cup_ (I bought a couple on my first trip to the supermarket. Because I needed them, and I also wanted to be a little shit) with bland cereal. So we set off on our sisterly-bonding road trip, in a town that neither of us were familiar with, directed by her phone’s GPS.

As I drove, she told me she was in pain, but that was obvious. I could tell by the way she was curled in on herself, hugging her torso. When she spoke, it was hoarse and almost squeaky. 

We arrived at the Medical Express. She had to call before they could let her in (thanks to a nameless pandemic, giving our situation an extra thrill of adrenaline). When Perennial walked, there was a stagger to it. I stayed by her side, and we walked through the door.

I stood off to the side, silent. I hoped my nearby presence was helpful and comforting as my roommate explained her...unfortunate health situation to the woman at the front desk. They spoke for a few minutes.

There was nothing they could do.

The woman told us of a second medical express, somewhere farther off in the unexplored town. We thanked her and headed back towards my car. 

My roommate plugged in the second destination and we set off towards our new route...with a new problem.

I noticed the amount of gas in my tank.

_...uh oh._

You thought being stuck with a person you barely know in a medical emergency nightmare in an unfamiliar place was bad? How about being stranded in said situation, with an unmoving car on the side of the road? Bring on the pinatas (but if you’re gonna hit something―)! It's a party!

So a new blanket of fear had encased me. On top of the slowly-rising hunger, of course. I started scanning the right side of the road for gas stations. I always loathed getting gas on my own, without the company of my parents in case some disaster happened. I can happily say this is no longer an issue for me; that phobia of adulting was whisked out the window by the person writhing in pain beside me. 

Thank god, I did find a gas station, and we were well on our way. Some relief was restored to me. A few more right turns and we arrived at the second Medical Express for the day. The routine continued; call the office, wait in the car, plunge into a waiting room full of face masks. 

The second Medical Express accepted Perennial with open arms, and rushed her past the front desk. I was left alone in the outside waiting room. 

I took a seat. The walls were a calming light green, the hardwood floors golden in the evening sunlight. It was like sitting on the inside of a honeydew melon―including the sticky part. 

I called my emotional support system (which at the time consisted of my mom and a few other very unlucky people). I bestowed my story to them: twenty-four hours into college, and I was now in the waiting room of a medical express. How’s Miss Pukey on the first night looking now, eh?

After relaying my situation a few times, I had a moment to sit back and reflect on recent events. And, this is awful, but I say this in full honesty: I was ready to laugh my _ass_ off. 

It was my first day in college, and this is what happened. I was in the Medical Express _waiting room._ What were the odds? It was like something from _Seinfeld_ ! It was _hilarious_! The other patients must’ve thought I’d gone hysterical. And that is a possibility: it could’ve been the ongoing starvation slowly chipping away at me. 

My bubbly delirium state popped as I faced new problems on the horizon.

One: I needed food. Every situation was improved with food, and this situation was in dire need of improvement. I needed to grab something, somewhere, fast. 

Two: what if they decided to keep my roommate overnight? Or take her to the emergency room? How would I get back to the college? We used _her_ phone’s GPS to get here. 

I looked out the window, and I gazed upon the main protagonist of this story, my saintly savior in my darkest times, the messiah of men.

A KFC drive-thru.


	3. The Honeydew Waiting Room

Sending a quick text out to my roommate, I left the medical express behind and sprinted to my car. The KFC was just across the road, on the opposite side of the intersection. 

I would’ve been thankful for any drive-thru, but I held a certain sentiment towards KFC. Before my rapid descent down this rabbit hole, I used to travel up with my mom to visit my grandparents’ lake house. The house itself was a relic of the 60s, permanently etched with the odor of Damprid and covered in moss. It was the view that mattered, the widespread lake that instilled an aura of calm. My mom towed me along to check on the house (and to be her kayaking buddy, since the gators weren't as fun), and after the two-hour long drive, it was a ritual to stop by KFC on the way. 

Seeing the neon sign of the old fart on top of the building gave me a sense of warmth and a stroke of familiarity. Sure, I was three hours away from home, tending to the most uncomfortable of medical circumstances with a near stranger. But KFC’s rolls are  _ seriously  _ good.

I decided to go bland and simple, ordering an extra meal for Perennial (she hadn't answered her phone, but any sane person would be ravenous by now). I sat in my car, waiting, the Medical Express sitting on the horizon, just six lanes of traffic away.

_...Hmm. _

My eyes widened as I observed my surroundings from this new angle. Not too far off in the distance, the sky blackened. It was a murky, nasty-looking purple. Normally I enjoyed the rain; I found it soothing and compatible with most of my introverted habits. But this fast-approaching tempest made my stomach churn.

I didn't have an umbrella. Not like I was doing much walking. I was more concerned with the  _ driving  _ portion. I barely knew where I was going, and now I felt like I was Helen Hunt in  _ Twister _ . 

The drive-thru window opened, cutting off my uneasy reverie. The smell that greeted me was another wave of calm and euphoria. I plopped the two boxes down in shotgun beside me, gazing at their loveliness. It was a sign of hope; it was like the Vulcan sign of prosperity in  _ Star Trek _ , filling me with reassurance and delight (I am aware that, as you’re reading this, you think that you’re reading the thoughts of a crazy person. Hunger can do scary things to the human psyche. But I still hold a revered opinion of KFC to this day, regardless).

I raced back to the parking lot of the Medical Express, still without word of my roommate and unsure how long they’d keep her behind closed doors. I enjoyed my feast, achieving my first moment of zen in this apocalypse. KFC had gifted me with only one water bottle, so the plastic red cup from earlier proved it's value tenfold as I poured (I still have plastic red cups stored inside my dorm room for convenience. And because I'm still a little shit). 

I retreated back to the honeydew-waiting-room. Sure, the underlying adrenaline of being in such a clinical place lingered, but after feasting upon godly chicken tenders, prepared in nectar from the lofty banquet halls of Mount Olympus, I was  _ okay _ . It was almost like I was empowered with numbness. I had adapted: I’d become immune. I had become my mother during happy hour: trapped in a dreamy-like state of tranquility. 

I looked out the window and my warm, fuzzy feeling cooled. The storm I had glimpsed during my outing was on the move; the very top of it stretched across the sky like a thick, gray wool blanket. Rain was inevitable. My biggest fear was the unfamiliar streets, drenched by the oncoming monsoon. My driving abilities were questionable enough without the obstacle of slick cement. Again, could I really make it back to the college on my own―?

Patients trickled in and out as I waited for the onslaught of rain. My phone battery was getting low. I played with my fingers, pretended to watch the TV screen in the corner. Mostly I just stared at the wooden flooring, which had turned dull without the luminescence of sunlight dancing upon the floorboards. I looked up every single time the door opened. 

Finally, I saw a face that I knew. 

Another wave of relief filled me as Perennial walked over to me. She looked better. I stood, feeling eager on my feet. “Hey, I ran by KFC and I got food in the car. How do you feel?” 

According to my roommate, she was plagued with two infections at the same time: a yeast infection  _ and  _ a UTI. I didn't prod her for details. She said we had to stop by a CVS on the way back for the new meds they prescribed. 

Then the rain hit. 

The heavens had just begun their assault on the earth. Big blotches etched themselves onto the sidewalk. The windows were blurred with droplets. 

We raced to my car in the harsh downpour. Perennial repeated what the nurses had told her, although I couldn't hear much over the bickering of the clouds and the slap of rain on concrete. It wasn't a long run, but enough to count as my first shower of today. I started up my car and pulled out of the parking lot, entering the intersection. 

We left the Medical Express behind us. 

I was right to fear the tempest. I could barely see five feet in front of the car. I drove ten miles below the speed limit as I gripped the steering wheel. 

My car was...not a stellar vehicle. I loved my car; it suited my needs well, it was tiny enough to fit into any parking space I desired. I emphasize on  _ tiny  _ (like car, like owner―I supposed that was a subtle blow at my height from my parents). My car was not capable of a road rage; the horn sounded like a squeaky dog toy. It was not the vehicle to have an accident in. 

The sound of the rain pounding against the windshield was deafening. My roommate and I had to shout just to hear one another. Her phone’s GPS was set to full volume, and I crept along at my snail-like pace, trying to work up the guts to go near the speed limit. 

We stopped by the CVS on our way back. I received my second shower of the day in my sprint to the building, and by the time we returned to the car, I had begun to feel the icy effects of the rainwater. I bit back a shiver as we pulled out and back onto the road. 

My roommate didn't want to eat yet. I suggested it might make her feel better, but she claimed that due to the stress, it was bound to come right back up. 

As I started to recognize the roads near the college, the rain stopped. The sky was tainted gray with the remains of the storm, with streaks of orange from a hidden sunset. Lightning came out to dance upon this canvas. The veins of light seared my eyes. 

We were on university grounds now, and my roommate was sharing the tale of her two car accidents (I had never been in one. Uneventful life, remember?) and other peculiar oddities of her hometown. Perennial was from Merritt Island, Florida. Her father was an engineer at NASA, and she lived in the swampy, redneck neighborhoods nearby. She had a cat, loved Harry Potter… 

A stranger no longer occupied my car that night. 

I parked and we made the long trek back to our dorm (along with our KFC, of course). Lightning still danced across the sky in dangerous patterns. 

“Our own personal fireworks show,” I mused. Perennial laughed. 

When we returned to our rooms, I invited her into mine to watch  _ Seinfeld  _ reruns and enjoy the tenders and fries left. 

Surprisingly, sleep came easily that night.


	4. A Moment of Zen

D A Y T H R E E

Unlike my first night, yesterday did not seem like a dream. It was vivid and etched into my mind. There were also certain reminders...like my roommate puking in the bathroom. 

Looking back, it's insane how much vomit was involved in this story. I quickly lost count of the eruptions as Perennial hid behind the bathroom door (at least she made it to the bathroom, I now knew what an accomplishment that was). I didn't believe that the puking occurrences were related; mine happened only once, while Perennial explained that the medications we picked up at CVS had some nauseating effects. I decided to give her some space and go out exploring. 

I roamed the floors of the building that I lived in. Move-in week was still in the works, and others hurried around me to get to their desired locations. I couldn't talk to many, or go anywhere, really. Some rooms were closed because of the pandemic. Others were dark and unoccupied, with residents still piling in.

I felt a bit of remorse as I trekked through the halls and scaled the staircase alone. It seemed natural to have my roommate next to me, experiencing these new discoveries together. But after the events of yesterday, she needed her rest. I had become the lone wolf. 

I returned to the rooms after I’d seen enough to sate my appetite. I didn't feel comfortable leaving my roommate alone for long. Again, it felt wrong to abandon her like this. The guilt caught up with me. So I went back to my room and fiddled around some more in the open space as my roommate napped next door. 

The day went by, no major incident, yet almost anticipating it...like the calm before the storm…

D A Y F O U R

The medications continued to take their toll on my roommate. I offered her Mucinex and energy drinks packed with electrolytes. I didn't know what else to do. There was one incident where I was woken up at three in the morning by the sound of my roommate hurling, and I decided, for the sake of my own health, that I needed a break. A vacation, of sorts.

I only knew one other person that attended the university. Her name was Jordan; we attended pre-college together and took the same ASL class. We weren't close, but I knew one thing. While my life was uneventful, a blank canvas barely sketched upon, Jordan’s was painted in many vibrant hues and exciting designs. With Jordan was adventure, freedom, escape―things that I was craving. 

I picked her up in my car, desperate to make one good college memory, and we set off to explore the upper class men's part of campus. 

The college that I had chosen was very skilled in the art of hospitality. With this in mind, there were parts of the university that were almost like a resort. I took extreme pleasure from this, especially given that my family had barely touched the realm of vacations and traveling. 

The upper class men’s dorms were formed around a man-made lake of freshwater, where students rented kayaks and boats (some of those options were now excluded, given the pandemic). We visited this lake and sat on the rocks lined along the edge, dipping our feet in. 

Sitting there, gazing out across the water, I was hit with another moment of zen. I completely forgot about the last few days. The move-in, the waiting room, the school just a mile away―I melted into the scenery around me, my sigh carried off by the soft lapping of the waves.

“This is really nice,” I murmured, fondly watching the tiny swarm of tadpoles near my toes. 

Jordan hummed. “The view ain’t bad. ‘Probably really nice living here.”

“Mmm. Yeah.”

After admiring the lake a while longer, we left the rocky edge and roamed the brick path that curled along the side of the water. The sun was on full-blaze intensity. The bricks beneath my bare feet scorched my sand-speckled toes, but I endured. It felt natural, being next to Jordan, gazing out across the glittering body of water. The moment of zen stretched on. 

My heat-induced daze ended sharply when my friend pointed at the bushes. It was a bunny—I was beginning to learn they were a common sight at my school. I thought it was the cutest invasion ever.

The brown-haired bunny bounded back to the shade of the bushes. We neared the shrubbery for one last look when something else caught my eye.

“Is that a  _ coconut _ ?” Jordan pointed at the bulky green rock nestled among the leaves and branches. 

I shrugged. I wasn't much of an expert on coconuts, but what else could it be? “Maybe. I think so.” 

Jordan picked up the anomaly, studying it. “Yep.  _ This _ is a coconut.”

“Huh.” 

Jordan looked up at me and shot me a smirk. It was a lipless smile, foreshadowing intrigue and fun, exotic plans. 

“I’m taking it. Wanna open it up in my room?” She offered.

I brightened at the idea. “Hells yeah.” 


	5. I Commit a Murder

We abducted the coconut and left the surf behind. I drove us back to Jordan’s dorm, all the while she mused about bringing a coconut and a redhead back to her two roommates. I laughed at the mental image. 

We arrived at my friend’s dorm. Her roommates were out for the time being. I marveled at Jordan’s room, furnished with scarfs hanging from the ceiling, a long astronaut tapestry, and dark green carpeting. It didn't feel like a school dorm at all. It was another realm, planets away. 

I didn't have a lot of experience with coconuts. I didn't even go near coconut-themed candy. But despite my little knowledge, I can assure you that the opening process was amateur hour, in the most amusing of ways. 

Jordan pulled out a toolbox, removing a mallet and a hammer. 

“Well, at least your room will smell nice,” I replied as we began the slow murder of the coconut. 

Jordan cackled. The next few hours were full of confusion on my part, sheer brute force on Jordan’s. We hacked away at the bright green flesh, tearing it away in strips to the stringy brown insides. There was one point when Jordan held the half-destroyed coconut together with her feet, reinforcing her hold with her hands, while I repeated blows to a screwdriver with a mallet. There wasn't too much talking, except for the occasional comment on our project. We were engrossed in the dissecting of our beach-themed victim. 

Eventually, we moved our operation into the common room that contained a kitchen sink. Jordan’s roommates had returned, although they didn't seem too baffled by the situation (perhaps it was a common occurrence for Jordan to bring back tons of coconuts and redheads. I was just a number). We continued our slow, gruesome murder. 

We had succeeded in ripping apart the outer husk, and started knocking on the inner shell. Even this barrier crumbled before our mallet and screwdriver, revealing the pearly white meat within.

I marveled at the inside. “Woah. Cool.”

Jordan plucked a piece of the white copra and offered it to me. 

“Is it edible?” I asked, awed.

She nodded. “Yep.” 

I accepted the pale, tender piece. It had a glossy coat that reflected the ceiling lights. The smell was faint and sweet. Curiously, I scraped off some with my teeth. 

There wasn't much of a taste, but it was soft in my mouth and calming. It was like my moment of zen from earlier had borne actual fruit. 

“You like it?” Jordan said.

“Yeah, it's good,” I grinned. Excitement sparked in me. I felt like a five year-old. 

We scooped out the rest of the white guts. We turned the coconut upside down, letting the coconut water trickle into a cup in the sink. I did another taste test, humming from the refreshing, faintly-sweet liquid. 

With the edible material acquired, Jordan had a new idea in mind: remove the entire outer, damaged husk, and split the shell inside. She had one half, I kept the other--a memento of my first happy memory in college. 

After our dissection, I decided to head back to the dorm, clutching my half of the coconut and some coconut meat enclosed in a ziploc bag. I was starting to feel that nagging guilt for leaving my roommate on her own again--especially since this particular outing was full of excitement. 

Upon returning to the dimly lit dorm, I learned my roommate was still sleeping. I set my half of the withered shell on my nightstand, where it still sits today, and it seemed to brighten up the darkened dorm. That one pure, happy memory would be the only candle I wielded against the oncoming advance of night.

**Author's Note:**

> Author: Hi Awesome Adventurers! It's Lotheswan, and I am in college now, and HAVE I GOT A STORY FOR YOU. Not very much in this chapter, but more is coming soon. Yes, this is based on the real-life events on what is currently happening (and told from my point of view, which is totally weird on my end). Thanks for reading, love, fortune and glory to you!!


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